


Home

by maryforyou



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Divorce, Explicit Sexual Content, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Fluff, I'm not kidding, New York City, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryforyou/pseuds/maryforyou
Summary: He knew it was wrong. He was a married man. Maybe not a happily married man, but still, a married man.But she was something else. Something taken from the Charlie Barber's guide to the perfect woman, and she didn't even try.He knew it was just a matter of time before they both gave in to their desires.But like everything in Charlie's life, things always got complicated.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Original Character(s), Charlie Barber/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t know why you are acting this oblivious. For fuck’s sake Nicole, you know what the company’s schedule is, we have costume fittings next week. I can’t go with you.” His voice was booming and bouncing from the four walls of their bedroom. It didn’t matter that the bedroom was kind of small, Charlie’s voice always had a way of filling entire rooms, no matter their size.

Nicole had dropped the bomb earlier that day that she was leaving the production, something about landing a job in L. A. that would not allow her to attend rehearsals even if she made the effort to be here for the actual presentations. Charlie knew she had auditioned. They had made it a trip a couple of weeks ago so that Henry could visit his grandma and aunt. It was not supposed to be a big deal. He thought it would benefit the play and her acting if she got out of the comfort zone she had been living in the last couple of years in the company, to take a glance at the competition again. 

But apparently, for Nicole, it was a good idea to break the news about her decision of taking the job to the group before even addressing it with her husband.

She did it on purpose. Nicole was one of the main characters, so when she finished speaking, everyone turned to Charlie full of questions about what was going to happen, and giving that he only found out with them, he didn’t have answers. She made him look unprepared, but more so than that, she made it obvious to everyone the state of their relationship. 

“Keep your fucking voice down Charlie, Henry is sleeping and you are not a director inside of this home.” She was pointing her finger up at him, like she always did when she was pissed. When she was really angry, she would connect the top of her finger with his chest, trying to compensate for her height. Tonight she left it mid-air. She was not that angry, not yet.

Charlie laughed, out loud, maybe a little too loud. Nicole sent him the deathliest glare she could manage, but at this point, he was immune to them.

“Home? Is that what you think this is? Let me tell you something Nicole,” he was now the one pointing a finger at her, “in a _‘home’_ , people communicate with each other. They don’t go making decisions that will affect everyone without consulting first. You know what that is called?” 

She raised her voice to interrupt him. “I don’t need you to mansplain shit to me, and I don’t need your permission to take a job that will advance my career.”

“It’s called being SELFISH.” He said over her. At this point they were both screaming.

It had become sort of a routine for them. Any topics aside from work or Henry would result in them screaming at each other. They did their best to avoid it, which meant they didn’t speak to each other much. Silence had crept its way between them, being more noticeable from time to time. For example, when they left Henry at school and were forced to walk together to the theater, or when they were cooking dinner and Henry was in his room playing. They had once been moments of amenity, but now, they were full with dread.

“Well, maybe it is time I started acting more selfish. Why can’t you be happy for me? This job is a huge opportunity for me.” She exclaimed. Her voice was breaking now. She knew that the stunt she pulled earlier was not correct and was making herself look like the victim. Oh and she knew how to play that part well, Charlie thought. 

“So? What does this mean? You are just going to come and go? Are they going to pay for your tickets? Have you even thought what you are going to say to our son?” Charlie kept throwing the questions at her, he knew she wouldn’t be able to answer. Serves her right, a piece of her own medicine.

“I can’t talk to you like this. I need space.” She said turning her back to him, chest heaving, fake tears about to fall.

Typical. Always running away from confrontation. “Yeah, whatever, I’ll be on the couch.” He said dismissively.

This had also become part of the routine. It had been around a month since Charlie had been forced to get acquainted with the couch. At first, when Henry asked, Charlie would tell him that he fell asleep watching TV, or reading, or finishing up some work. At this point, the reigning reason was that he was having back pains and the doctor suggested he slept on a harder surface.

Kids… They would believe anything.

He didn’t know when it all started. All the fighting was taking a real toll on them, and L. A. was becoming the last drop before the glass spilled. They used to be so in love with each other. That seemed so far away now. They hadn’t had sex in over a year now, not even hate sex. And that’s what they were at the brink of, hating each other.

* * *

The next day, they had talked in the kitchen, before Henry woke up. The island separating them. It was not so much as a heart to heart, but more of a plan-making situation. She would go to L.A. begin to work, and return when possible. Henry would finish the school year in New York, and when summer came, he would go with her, also visiting her once a good flight deal arose. Charlie did not like the idea of Henry flying alone, but Nicole was fixated that she’ll miss him too much.

* * *

A month came and went fast enough. Charlie had struggled the first two weeks of this new arrangement but had now entered into a well-functioning routine. He was buried deep in work. Nicole’s sudden exit had proven to be more chaotic than expected. The understudy had resulted so terribly inadequate for the part that he was forced to cast auditions again. Opening night had to be delayed once more and the sponsors were getting frustrated. Aside from that, half of Charlie’s income was flying away in babysitter fees, forcing him to cut back on other things, such as drinking nights with the crew or fun outings with his son, which he sensed he was resenting.

To say Charlie was under a lot of pressure was the understatement of the year.

The white light marked the shape of the walking man, a timer coming to life above it. “Did you already look on both sides?” he asked. He always tried to make a lesson out of everything, making the most of their brief moments together.

“Yes Dad.” He noticed a glimpse of exasperation in his voice. They began crossing the street towards the theater. On the subway ride here, he had scolded him for drifting away from him to read a publicity poster for weight loss pills. He was at that stage where he tried to read everything as a way of practice. He was struggling with it. The school had contacted him and Nicole about it only to follow with a 2-hour long argument with her. From what he recollected in between all her shouting was that he wasn’t spending much time with him, that tossing him between babysitters did Henry no good, and that he sucked at being a father. The first two he already knew, the third one hit a nerve. It had taken him all his willpower not to scream back at her; his only deterrent was that he was in the middle of rehearsal.

Already walking on the sidewalk, Henry broke the silence. “When will I be able to cross the road without you holding my hand?” His tone made it seem he had been meditating this question for a while now.

“When you are older and can see the dangers behind your actions.” Charlie was stern, calculated, when he answered, but with a lingering softness in his words. Henry huffed. Maybe he had a bad day in school today, he would try and talk to him at bedtime, for now, he would just need to wait. The control room had slowly transformed into a second bedroom for Henry given all the time he spent there. He didn’t seem to mind, as Charlie made sure to check on him constantly and he always received attention from the crew on their free time.

Charlie placed his son’s backpack on the floor once they entered the space, Henry immediately jumping to the couch Charlie had put in there for his naps. When Nicole was still here, and he got bored from the couch at home or they had a pretty huge fight, he would come and sleep in this one as well. For a while he had entirely forgot what it was to sleep on a bed.

“Looks like you have to read ten pages of your book and do a couple of math problems.” Charlie said while reading Henry’s homework book, “Why don’t you get started with math and I’ll come and revise it later?”

“Okay, but will you help me with my reading?” He was already taking out his math textbook, definitely a book too heavy for an 8-year-old.

“Of course honey.” He closed the door behind him. Today’s rehearsal was going to be a long one and he certainly did not have the energy for it. He needed caffeine.

* * *

“Everyone!” He had all their attention instantly, with his voice, it was impossible not to. “Please start reviewing and getting ready for scene 8, act 1. We will jump right into it after I go get some coffee in my system, does anyone want anything?”

Three orders later, Charlie was out the door again. He could have one of the interns do this coffee run, but more often than not, he enjoyed the ambiance set in the café across the street from the theater. The bunch of strangers, some alone, some engaging in chit chatter about everything and nothing. Human nature at its finest. The coziness of that café in particular always made Charlie feel warm, and watching the other people in there always helped him compare the interactions with what the actors tried to do on stage. 

He breathed in heavily when he entered the shop. The smell of grinded coffee and a touch of cinnamon filling his senses. He stepped on the line and waited patiently while searching for a chair to sit briefly. His usual one was available, he smiled at that.

“How’s it going Charlie?” Grace, the main barista, had already begun to write up his usual order, seeing that, he was convinced that he came here a little too often.

“Long rehearsal ahead.” He responded with a grin. “I actually have a couple more orders.” Grace always had a smile on her face, and when she was relaxed, her expression lines were the evidence of that. He told her the rest of the items and paid the check.

“Coming right up boss man.” He chuckled as he went and sat down on his chair. That was his nickname before Grace learned his name and it made him laugh every time. The seat he always took was in the corner, a sort of reading chair beside a lamp and a small table, perfect for one. Besides, he got a good look from the shop from here without being too creepy.

He sat down letting most of his body fall and spaced out quickly, waiting for the coffees to be prepared. A feeling in his neck pulled him out of his trance. He looked around and met the gaze of a young woman behind the counter. Charlie had never seen her before. She was wearing an apron so she obviously worked here. She was probably new? He would’ve definitely have spotted her before, she was stunning, and she was looking directly at him. Her eyes were deep in curiosity, her head tilted a little to the side, portraying the emotion very clearly, Charlie would take note on that.

Her gaze was not faltering, and when a side smile curled her lips, Charlie’s breath hitched. He started to panic. Why was she looking at him like that? So full of wonder and serenity. His mind started racing. What was he supposed to do? His body responded poorly and he just waved.

He mentally scolded himself. She didn’t know him and he was waving like he would to a friend on the street. It was not even a wave; he had just raised his hand up. Wait, she could mistake that as a form of getting her attention as a waitress. The other corner of her mouth raised as well, transforming her face into a beautiful grin as she circled the counter. Charlie wanted to dwell on that smile, it was ridiculously alluring, but he wasn’t able to because she was walking straight towards him.

He stiffened. He fucked up, now what was he going to say to her? He wasn’t going to order anything and he just made her walk over here because he didn’t think for a second to just return the smile and had it done with.

Just as she was about to reach him, she made a sharp turn to the table beside him, where a couple had actually called for her. Relief began washing over Charlie, but then, he heard her voice.

“Everything alright with your order guys?” A soft, velvety tone that pronounced each word smoothly. For a normal person, these observations would seem too much, but for Charlie, a man of theater, they were part of his job. As he closely listened to the interaction beside him, he realized he could hear a three-hour long monologue with that voice.

“Well, if you ask me, my favorite is the blueberry cheesecake. The size is perfect for sharing too, do you want me to go and fetch you one?” She had a smile plastered on her face the whole time. Charlie began fiddling with his fingers to not make his awe even more obvious.

“Awesome, I’ll bring it right up.” She began making her way to the counter again. Charlie could not stop himself from looking. Her walk was steady, her hips swayed naturally from side to side gracefully, and her ass moved along with her, its fullness perfectly proportionate to the rest of her body. When his eyes moved up again she was looking at him, this time with a smirk.

She had caught him.

Charlie began blushing. Yes. Blushing. Like a fucking teenager. Because that was what he was feeling like right now. The urge to apologize bubbled up inside of him. He had been purposefully checking her out, like he was some sort of animal, unable to control his urges. This was not like him, what he just did was plain rude. Then again, she didn’t seem mad, she smirked at him. Did she like him?

He stood up to approach her, his resolve fragile. But before he could embarrass himself further, Grace called out his name with his order. Charlie did not know if he was happy to get out of there or disappointed he would not speak to her. For his own sanity, he settled for the first as he grabbed the carton cup holder with all the drinks.

He glanced at her again, only to find her handing the cheesecake to the couple from before. He sighed and exited the café.

In that moment, as he watched the coffees in his hands, his ring finger felt heavier than ever.

Right. He almost forgot.

He was married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So I'm starting this fic to feed my own obsession with this character. There is just something about a serious, 30 something year old man that gets me going. This work will contain "cheating" in the sense that Nicole and Charlie are still married, but are separated and working on the specifics of their divorce. So be warned if it is a sensitive topic for you. 
> 
> This is a slow burn and something very different from what I've also written, given the fact that this is sorta from Charlie's POV. I'm still thinking if I should do a Reader/Original Character POV as well and alternate chapters. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

How long had it been?

Ten? Fifteen years? Had it really been that long since he had felt this way? He had hoped that the rehearsals and day to day errands would be enough of a distraction to make the whole encounter with that woman fade into the bundle of interactions he had with strangers.

A week later, laying in the bed he used to share with his wife, he could not stop thinking about her. That side smile that tormented him the rest of that day, her elegant and carefree walk, but above everything, her deep, brown eyes that showcased her placidity with spotlights.

He avoided entering the establishment at all costs afterwards. He would send the intern to get his order or when he was busy, Charlie would omit coffee altogether. Was it childish? Yes. Did Charlie know that? Also yes. Could he help it? No.

He released a deep breath full of frustration. He wasn’t allowed to have these kind of thoughts. He was a married man for God’s sake. Yet… He didn’t feel like one. Nicole and him were speaking even less than before. Their only communication consisted of a ten-minute phone call every 2-3 days, void of emotion and endearment. Not only their marriage, but their whole relationship as a unit was going down the drain, and neither of them was trying to stop it. He knew he could make an effort to work on their problems, but his swift ignorance of them the last couple of years made him realize he did not want to. Nicole leaving to L.A. only proved she did not want to either. This was not just a rough patch anymore, it had escalated.

Charlie stood from bed, he needed to look at his son, the only bond keeping him and Nicole together. Henry was sound asleep, his assignment book of the month laying in his stomach, the pages crumpling under his arms. Charlie smiled and removed the book from his grasp to put it down on his bedside table, giving him a kiss on the forehead before turning the lights out.

The crew was out having drinks, as any person his age would normally do on a Friday night in New York City, but Charlie had decided to pass. He had looked forward to this evening on his own. Henry had no school tomorrow, and he gave the company the day off, they would probably both sleep in and maybe go on a picnic in the afternoon. Perhaps Henry could take his kite to that park near the theater.

Great, now he was doing it unconsciously.

Even though Charlie had not entered the coffee shop that week, that did not stop him from looking over the window attentively every time he passed in front of it, and he took every stupid excuse to do so. His walk would slow down, and his eyes would squint, expecting to see her. That did not happen, not even once. For a moment it seemed like she did not exist, that he had made her up. Probably a ploy from the universe to make him enter the damn place already.

He went up to the living room and to his liquor cart to pour himself some whiskey, his drink of choice. As the brown liquid filled the glass, he stared at it. The color and shape of the stream reminded him of her hair; it was placed in a delicate, loose, side braid. Her hair reached her breasts, and was probably longer once it was loose. Charlie always did enjoy long hair. When Nicole came home one day with her now staple pixie cut, he disliked it. He did not comment on it though. She looked happy and mentioned something about it already being too damaged.

His thoughts went back to the woman. He was sure that if he was able to touch it, it would be soft. Before he could realize, whiskey was already pouring out of the tumbler glass and into the carpet.

 _“Shit.”_ He muttered to himself.

This was getting ridiculous. He hurried to the kitchen for a towel and crouched down on the mess he had made. Great, the stain was going to stay. That was it.

He needed to see her again.

* * *

In his mind, it sounded like a plan. He would enter the shop, see her, tell her his order, she would respond, and she would become the nice lady from the café across the theater. That was it. After that, he was certain he would get her out of his system. Whatever reason his mind had constructed to make him so fixated on this woman would fly off the window.

“We are going to stop at the coffee shop first Henry.” His son was basically dragging him across the sidewalk, he was very excited. The day had turned perfect for the kite, normally all the tall buildings would not allow the wind to flow easily, but the awakening of spring provided this small gifts. It must’ve been a funny sight to anyone on the street, a 6’3’’ man being yanked around by an 8-year-old boy who was yet to have his stretch.

“Coffee is nasty. I don’t know why grownups drink it. It tastes bitter and like liquid dirt.” They were almost there. Charlie had to place a hand on his son’s shoulder to keep him from pulling, he was going to get hurt with how much force he was putting into it.

“You only say that because you are desperate to get to the park. Wait how do you know what coffee tastes like?” He could come up with a couple of good guesses, all involving Nicole or her family.

“Grandma made me a cup when she taught me how to make a.. um… _Canadian_ press.” Charlie genuinely laughed at this. Good thing his son’s remark was funny, or else his mood would’ve turned sour at the thought that he was going to be living in his grandma’s house the entire summer.

“I think you mean French press and please don’t drink or eat anything that is for grownups, even if grandma offers it to you.” He said the last part in a serious tone. It wouldn’t be above Sandra to possibly making him taste wine as well.

“Fine, but can we hurry? The wind will go away.” Out of nervousness or simple habit, his steps began slowing down when they turned the corner. Charlie went over his plan again and grasped the courage to open the door. Henry rushed right in, almost tripping on the kite’s cord.

“Be careful.” Charlie said before making a scan of the shop. At first glance, there was no sign of her.

“Boss man!” Grace’s voice made some heads turn her way, but her smile compensated the outburst. Charlie returned the smile and made his way to the counter. He wanted to be as nonchalant as possible while he was examining every corner of the place, Grace picking up immediately.

“Looking for something Charlie?” He really was expecting for the mystery woman to take his order, but by all means it looked like she wasn’t working today. Maybe he had really made her up, a product of his imagination.

“No, no, sorry.” Henry was now leaning his head over the dessert display. “Can you make it to go please?” He said while handing her some dollar bills, carefully placing one in the tip jar. He was always a good tipper, even when the service or attention he was getting was not a quality one. This time he didn’t sit, he just lounged near the counter, standing next to his son. His face was now into a frown that he was not aware of. Even the most distracted person could read the disappointment he projected.

“You kind of disappeared on us this week.” Charlie hummed in agreement, eyes still wandering around. “I haven’t seen Nicole around here in a while also, how is she?” Great, the last thing he needed right now was mention of his wife.

“Good, yeah.” His tone was dismissive. When he catched up on that he turned at Grace, who had a concerned look on her face. She was just trying to be nice, probably because of his change in demeanor, and he was being rude. “She’s working in L.A. right now.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but relented, glancing at Henry. Charlie knew what she was going to ask. It was the same question everyone asked him after he told them about Nicole’s whereabouts. He appreciated that she refrained from asking for the sake of Henry. _Are you guys still together?_

Each time he answered with a ‘yes’, he felt even more pathetic.

Grace didn’t say anything more, her expression lines visible due to the fact she stopped smiling a while ago. When she handed him his drink, Charlie took one last look around the room. She wasn’t here. For some reason he felt his stomach turn and he cursed himself. He was acting crazy and for a woman whose name he didn’t even know. He grabbed on Henry’s hand while turning towards the exit. He didn’t even say thank you.

He held the door and Henry walked out first, but was stopped on his tracks just before he followed. He heard Grace call out to him.

“She only works weekdays.”

Charlie’s eyes widened and his chest expanded because of the big breath he took. How the hell did she knew? Had he been that obvious that he was looking for her? Maybe she had asked Grace about him? She probably already knew he was married. Why did that made him feel nervous? Was that the real reason behind her question about Nicole? She had a knowing look. Grace always catched up on everything.

He could only manage a nod before walking out and grabbing his son’s hand again.

* * *

Sunday did not turn out to be what he expected. His phone rang around noon, Nicole. She asked about Henry and told him she bought tickets for him for the next weekend. Charlie reluctantly agreed. She then asked him to go to another room, one in which Henry wasn’t, they needed to talk.

“I don’t know what it is we are doing anymore.” That was her initial statement. Charlie wasn’t sure where she was going at with this conversation. He had gone to the rooftop and started pacing between the air conduits.

“I agree.” His gesticulation was so absent that his words almost came out as a grumble. He wasn’t mad or anything, he just wanted her to get to the point, he hated her efforts for making this dramatic.

“I think we should get separated, spend some time on our own, think things through.” It wasn’t a shocking statement. Quite frankly, he wondered what took her so long. If it had been completely up to him, he could’ve lasted a couple more months keeping the act, the one in which they acted as if their marriage was not completely dead. Regardless, it felt like a bomb dropped on his head. 

“We are already separated; you are in goddamn L.A.” Not even his curse sounded mad. He didn’t even know why he stated the obvious.

“I mean emotionally Charlie.” Had he paid more attention, he would’ve noticed Nicole’s cracked voice and all the indicators that she was crying over the other end of the line. Not that it would’ve changed the course of things, but he might’ve considered his next words more carefully.

“Fine.” The word escaped him colder than ice.

“Okay.” She hung up. For now, there was nothing else she wanted to say, nothing that would matter anyway.

He focused his eyes on the New York skyline. He really did love the city. It was part of him, part of them. He thought this would go differently, that they would scream at each other and say hateful things they might or might not mean in the midst of anger. The scary part was that they were both calm, clearly tired of dragging this longer than they should. The life they had built together the past decade was now crumbling apart.

By a five-minute phone call.

The constriction in his chest was making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to scream, toss his phone into the air, rip his hair out, but the spring wind was whisking away his worries about the next months momentarily, allowing his emotions to run freely through his body. His eyes got watery, his lip trembled, and it took him every last bit of effort to not fall to the ground.

It pained him. He didn’t even venture into worrying if Nicole was feeling as bad as he was right now, she probably wasn’t. He thought their dynamic was going to be the thing that made them work, one in which they didn’t need to voice everything to understand each other. Looking back, that was probably the bullet that killed their relationship. They had completely forgotten how to communicate with each other and a clear example was the absurd conversation they just had.

After putting Henry to bed and letting him know he would be visiting his mom next week, he sank on the couch and stared into nothing. All his earlier feelings had muffled with the hours. Maybe this was a good thing. He had been a coward by not accepting that he didn’t love Nicole in the same way as before for quite a while now. Maybe now, without the constant tip-toeing around each other, they could both get another chance at filling the affection well they had slowly built over the years. They both deserved it.

His eyes felt heavy as he made his way to the bedroom. The bed squeaked under his weight as a welcome gesture. Tomorrow he had to be sharp, a new week rolling in.

Monday.

 _She_ only worked weekdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!
> 
> So, yesterday I watched Marriage Story again to analyze some character details. Anyways, I decided that I would change some aspects of the development of the divorce for plot purposes. So, please don't hate me for not sticking perfectly to the movie :) :) 
> 
> Also, these first chapters feel a lot like Charlie/Nicole story, but that is just because they are the background to Charlie's emotional state. Bear with me, we are getting to where we want to be ;) 
> 
> Thankyou for your kudos and for reading this personal indulgence of mine.


	3. Chapter 3

It happened rarely, but sometimes, when the situation called for it, Charlie would fit right into that New Yorker stereotype. Walking the sidewalks in a rush, crashing into people without saying sorry, and cursing the tourists who only seemed to be obstacles in his way.

After dropping Henry at school that morning, he had received a call from the company’s publicist just before he descended underground to catch the train to the theater. She told Charlie that there were some big-name art donors in town and she had squeezed an interview for him in half an hour. The only problem being, that the offices were on the other side of Brooklyn.

He knew about them. It was all his fellow director friends had been raving about the last couple of months. Everyone wanted a piece of that grant. Winning it would not only entitle him with the means necessary to pay some debt, but also work on some improvements for the play. He always managed to put almost everything he earned from theater into theater again.

This meeting was a huge thing. He would have to ask Sheila how the hell she managed to get him a sit-down with them. If he managed to convince that his work was worth it, it might illicit a chain reaction of donors and establish him even further into the scene. It needed to be perfect, and some pedestrians were not going to stop him.

He rummaged through his bag, desperately trying to find his phone again after he had shoved it inside to make his sprint through the streets more comfortable. He had to let somebody know at the theater that he would arrive late. Taking out a couple of papers and books out to clear his moving vision, he finally found it and began searching his contact list, his pace not relenting. His eyes were on the screen and, when he found Frank, he smiled in victory.

Just as he pressed call, his body suddenly shifted to the side by the force of a nudge, effectively managing to scatter everything he was holding in his arms on to the ground. Damn tourists and their abilities to always get on the way. He groaned loudly, muttering profanities under his breath, and crouched to grab his things fast. The culprit of this mess was already on the floor picking up some of his notes and a book that had flown farther away. He didn’t need this and was one second away of lashing out on the stranger in the rudest way he could out of spite. His mouth opened to start his gruesome rant when the person finally spoke. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…”

She was gathering the last of his things frantically and avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. Pure shame was fueling her velvety voice that was just about a whisper, like she was saying the words to herself more than to him. Charlie wanted to disappear, be sucked right into the ground then and there. Right before his eyes was the woman that had plagued his thoughts for the past week and she was trembling like a frightened kitten.

Because of him.

“I’m so, so sorry, my shoelace got untied and I tripped right into you, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Only after she finished speaking did she look at him, holding out her hand with his belongings. Her eyes widened suddenly and her mouth gaped a little bit. “It’s _you_.”

Charlie was about to choke on his own tongue. Did he hear her right? She had recognized him just as much as he had recognized her? A wave of relief filled him, maybe he was not so crazy as he had convinced himself he was. He smiled internally, New York and his fateful encounters. He then realized that a couple of long seconds had passed and he hadn’t said anything. Let alone that, they were both still on the ground and her hand had been extended to him for longer than comfortable. He knew that awkwardness was beginning to encircle them but his brain was refusing to work, much to his dismay.

“What is it Charlie?” Frank’s voice snipped him out of his trance, his nasal tone overcoming the fact that the phone was not on speaker. “Charlie?”

He suddenly stood up out of instinct, thanking his neurons for remembering to give her a hand to help her up. They both began a fumbling dance, since she _still_ had his stuff in one hand, and she was clutching her bag on the other. Not knowing what to do with himself, Charlie ended up grabbing her elbow. In the heat of the moment, he miscalculated his force greatly, seemingly forgetting her tiny frame, and made her stumble forward, threatening to drop everything again.

It happened so fast, but from one moment to another, she was pressed against him, Charlie’s hands tight on her arms, having caught her, and the only things separating their now heaving chests was Charlie’s notes and book. 

She looked up and Charlie looked down. Both their looks were quizzical, as if asking what the hell had just happened. If Charlie had thought that she saw right through his soul that day at café, he was greatly, greatly mistaken. Her gaze, the feeling of her in his hands, her breathing, everything was just… _electric_ , sending direct spasms across Charlie’s hands.

“HELLO?! DID YOU BUTTDIALLED ME?”

She was startled by the sudden voice coming from his cellphone, now placed closer to her, where Charlie’s hand was. At the same time, she backed away and Charlie let go of his grip on her arms. Only then did he managed to put the damn cellphone to his ear, his eyes still gaping at her.

“Frank.”

“What is it Barber?” he sounded a little irritated. What did he call Frank for?

 _Fuck_ , the interview. 

She had shifted her gaze, leaning down to tie her undone shoelaces. Charlie took just one second, that is all he could spare, to take her in. She was wearing a long sleeved dress with a subtle flower print and some brown boots, a rather contrasting combination, but one that suited her perfectly.

“I’ll be late today, tell the crew to start with act 2 scene 3.” As soon as his voice came out, her eyes shot up to him again. He didn’t wait for Frank to reply and hung up. They both stood still for a moment before she extended her hand again and Charlie _finally_ grabbed his things.

“Thank you, I- I have to- …” The impending weight of time was clearly taking a toll on him. He wanted to introduce himself, ask her name, tell her he was sorry for being rude when she tripped into him, but the interview was less than 15 minutes away and he still had some blocks to go.

“My shift starts at 4, come see me?” Her words made Charlie’s insides feel like melting butter. It was as if she had sensed that he needed to go and didn’t want to keep him any longer. Her bluntness exhilarated him. She began walking past his frame, not even waiting for his answer, her hand lightly grazing his. Her feathery touch gave him goosebumps. What the hell was wrong with him?

Charlie looked over his shoulder to where she had gone. Her walk as confident and graceful as he remembered. He hoped she would just turn around for a second, look at him… but she didn’t, enticing Charlie even more. She had gotten a grip of him and she didn’t even know it.

His resolve sprung again after he saw her turn the corner. He hurried down and practically blasted through the doors of the building where the interview was at, forcing himself to think about the encounter until after he had this done with.

* * *

He was lucky he entered into his normal director headspace in time. The meeting had gone wonderfully, his ideas were clear and he delivered them with purpose, undoubtedly appealing to the three suited man before him. He even cracked a couple of jokes and they had laughed. Every reaction he gathered from the people made him believe he truly did have a shot at winning the grant. That was just who Charlie was, a natural charmer, but only when he truly decided it.

Sheila had told him that he had to do a quick pitch, that the meeting was to last around 20 minutes at the most, given the last-minute basis of it all. When he stepped outside, looking at his wrist watch, he realized he had been in there for almost an hour and a half. Yeah, the meeting had gone just fine.

He took in a big breath, letting the combination of smells fill his lungs. Cigarettes, a little dust, faint hints of hotdogs and pretzels, and exhaust smoke from worn down cabs. Flashes of earlier that morning finally began to comfortably fill his thoughts.

Jasmines… She smelled like jasmines. 

For a moment, he let himself wonder that she had thought of him these last days, that she hoped to see him all week through the window or entering the café as much as he did. Why he was so infatuated with the idea of her? He didn’t know. Crashing into her this morning did nothing to appease him, and now, he was going to go see her, at four to be exact.

He savored these thoughts, not that he was calm about the idea of seeing her again, but the pleasant thrill was there. Charlie did not know what he was going to say, not even what he expected to come out of this, this thing he was pursuing. He just knew he wanted to know more of her. He let out a relief sigh as he began to walk to the nearest subway stop.

* * *

His shoulders were limp on the train seat, he would be lying if he said that remnants of Nicole’s conversation on the phone had not clouded his mind during breakfast. But as the morning went on, even before his altercation with her in the sidewalk, he felt as if a weight had been lifted of his shoulders. For both of them, their relationship had begun to feel like an anchor that was holding them down of many things, and now, with the separation, he felt like he could swim upwards and finally catch some air.

He took out his book, he had a couple of stops left before he neared the theater and the text he was carrying right now, and that he almost lost this morning, was perfect for it. He was on a sort of poetry season that helped him tune everything out. Of course he also read screenplays, but he counted that as some kind of work too. This was his personal reading, for his pleasure, for his soul, and he enjoyed it dearly every time he got the chance.

He had been skipping those that talked about love, not able to identify himself with that for the last couple of months, maybe years, but today he gave one a try.

* * *

After being quite literally ambushed by the crew with questions about the interview, he found himself more enthusiastic and immersed than he had been in a while. The possibility of the grant had him hopeful and full of new ideas. Everyone kind of picked up on that, and relished the energy that came from him by keeping up with him all the rehearsal. They got so into it, that by the time that Charlie checked on his watch, he realized that it was already 7 pm. He had also let himself go because he had booked a babysitter for Henry all week in advance. After giving everyone, including himself, Saturday morning, they had work to catch up on. He quickly gave everyone individual tasks and told them to take a break afterwards.

When he entered the coffee shop, he immediately saw her. She was at the work station, while a young man took care of the register, no Grace today. His breath hitched and he was grateful that she had taken initiative to tell him to come, otherwise he might have berated himself all day thinking that she thought he was an ass. He had clearly acted like one in both of their encounters, first checking her out, and the other growling at her. But she still wanted to see him, and that was a good signal right?

He took advantage that she had not spotted him walk in and made his way discreetly towards the cashier. He gave the man his order, and he saw perfectly how her shoulders tensed at the sound of his voice. She was quick to mask it, and she looked over her shoulder to stare right into him, giving him that same side smile that he had pictured to the very last detail. Charlie’s stomach turned and he was barely aware that the man was asking for his payment.

He paid and made his way to a two chaired table, for precaution. Charlie had been an actor for a while before solely committing to being a director, and right now he was bringing all of it back by trying to act cool. It took every effort in his mind to not look back at her while sitting on the table, he wanted to be as mysterious as she was to him. He didn’t know why exactly, but he wanted to impress her.

It all clearly went down the toilet when she made her way to the chair in front of him, placing his drink carefully on the table. She had poured it in a mug, not a to-go cup. Charlie smiled internally at this. She did it to make him stay, good thing he had a solid half an hour to spare, he had made sure of it. One of his hands trembled a little as he reached for the cup, he hoped she didn’t notice.

“Thank you.” Okay, good start. Words weren’t coming easy, but at least he had said something. He knew her gaze was directed at him, but he had not yet looked up at her, opting to stare right at his cup. When he tasted his drink, he was genuinely pleased, she had made it as good as Grace.

Instinct flowed on Charlie and in one swift motion, he extended his hand towards her, a formal introduction was overdue as he realized he still did not know her name. In the way he almost knocked the coffee cup over, and he hoped she didn’t see the momentary panic in his eyes. A full smile with a hint of teeth formed on her lips. Charlie took a mental image so that he could go back to it later. She really was beautiful. He noticed how a small dimple formed, but only on her right cheek.

“Charlie…” His voice was a little sharper than he would’ve wanted, but that’ll have to do. She gently took his hand, and the electric chills he had felt in the morning were present all over again. Her hand looked so small against his and her skin was so soft that before he knew it, he had grazed his thumb over her knuckles in a gentle caress. He had shocked himself by doing that. Where did that came from? He was about to tuck his hand away and exit the premises hurriedly out of pure embarrassment when he felt her give his hand a small squeeze. Her eyes were focused in his but with a softness he rarely saw on people anymore.

“Emilia…” She let go of him and placed her hand underneath her chin, cupping her face. She was examining him, taking every last bit of his awe, but he didn’t care. All he could feel at the moment was _warmth_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people who stumbled upon this story,
> 
> Thank you for reading one more chapter, I'm sorry I cut it the way that I did, but it was getting very long very fast, so I decided to split it in two. Good thing is that the next update will be very soon! 
> 
> Also, I personally love the name Emilia and it's the one I've chosen for our OC, the whole Y/N never suits me right, but if you want a more interactive experience, here is a link for a chrome plugin that can change a certain word to whatever you want it to be in fanfictions! 
> 
> https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/interactivefics/pcpjpdomcbnlkbghmchnjgeejpdlonli?hl=en
> 
> Or you can just look it up as InteractiveFics plugin :) 
> 
> Leave your comments or thoughts! Are we liking it this far?


	4. Chapter 4

“Automne Malade.” Her voice startled him for a second. He was taken aback by her words, they sounded so foreign that he honestly did not know how to respond. He enjoyed the sound of her voice, smooth and unwavering, but it troubled him that she seemed to be expecting an answer from him. “Autumn ill? That’s my favorite.” Her words were filled with honey. When she saw him still not sure of what she was asking, she continued, throwing him a quick grin. “Apollinaire?”

Things clicked for Charlie. His book. It was a collection of Guillaume Apollinaire’s earlier poems. She had probably seen it when she picked it up earlier in the day. Having her so close slowed his thinking process, but he had a faint memory of that poem in particular. Without hesitating, he reached for his bag and took the book out.

“I’m sorry for acting so rude in the morning.” He said as he flipped through the pages, fervently looking for the poem she was referring to. “I was in hurry and very distracted…” Charlie was now subconsciously frowning. He had a tendency to do that when he wanted to concentrate. Her staring was making the task very difficult. “But, in my defense, you basically tackled me.”

He chuckled at his own attempt of a joke, but his smile instantly faded when she casted no reaction whatsoever. God, did he have something stuck in his teeth? Or maybe his joke was not funny at all. Playing back his words in his head he realized his whole commentary could be mistaken for spiteful. Figures, he had been on a charming roll since the morning so, clearly life’s karma was not granting him any wishes now.

When he finally found the friggin poem, he carefully lifted his gaze. What he saw make him gulp and tense his jaw. The tiniest portion of her bottom lip was comfortably nudged between her teeth. The glint in her eyes revealed that she was did not care at all about what happened and hid some sort of amusement.

She suddenly let go of her lip as she rested her back on the chair, placing her hands on her lap and tilting her head to the side.

It was as if she was retracting her advances because her smile also wavered a little. Conflict flashed through Charlie’s mind. He should’ve been relieved that she placed some space between them, making the encounter a whole lot more friendly and innocent. The course his thoughts had taken, after seeing her lip color return to that natural reddish pink with her teeth’s minor assault, was anything but pure. He imagined himself pausing a kiss to nib forcefully at that lip, making everything escalate from there on.

Because he had, indeed, thought about kissing her. Since the morning, he had played over and over the scene of her being flushed to his chest, looking at him sheepishly. He had taken a good look of her lips at that moment and they were now haunting him.

He had reprimanded himself at first, circling the marriage mentality. Then again, he and Nicole were separated, ‘spending some time on their own’ as she so eloquently phrased it. Whatever the specifics of that were or what it instated was unknown to Charlie. Furthermore, he remembered there was no harm done on thoughts, it was not like he was going to act on them, right?

That’s when he realized the reason behind her abrupt change of demeanor. Her beautiful brown eyes had casted downwards. Holding the book open on the poem was his large hand splayed out, _the left one_. 

It was as if his ring had shimmering led lights incrusted on it, because it felt like it was glistening in the warmly lit establishment. Fact was, Charlie was a creature of habit, he hadn’t even hesitated when slipping the ring on in the morning, he always did that accompanied by his watch. That wouldn’t change, at least not before him and Nicole defined things. What unsettled him was how deeply he was regretting not taking it off before entering the shop. His shoulders tensed. Those kind of thoughts led to more dangerous roads than fantasizing about kissing the woman in front of him.

“Read it to me.” The way she said her words was like a caress at the back of his neck. “Please Charlie.” Hearing his name come out of her lips, so pleadingly, made him snap out of his self-induced craze. He looked down to the book, his ring mocking him as he cautiously switched hands and held the paperback more naturally.

He began, and when his voice didn’t quiver he was proud of himself.

_“Autumn ill and adored_

_You die when the hurricane blows in the roseries_

_When it has snowed_

_In the orchard trees”_

Charlie was used to reading scripts and notes out loud for other people, it was an everyday endeavor being a director. He always played close attention to enunciation so that actors could mimic him or understand his vision. But there was something about reading poetry that felt… _intimate_. He remembered the poem now. No previous memories related to it, not until now. From today and out he would remember her every time he read it.

_“Poor autumn_

_Dead in whiteness and riches_

_Of snow and ripe fruits_

_Deep in the sky_

_The sparrow hawks cry_

_Over the sprites with green hair the dwarfs_

_Who’ve never been loved”_

His deep baritone voice was clear in spite all the chit chatter and casual rumbling around them and Charlie dared to glance up at her. She had shifted positions, her elbow now on the arm rest and one hand shaped into a loose fist holding the weight of her head by her temple. For once, he was prepared for the look in her eyes having their previous interactions in mind, but she was not looking back at him. Her gaze was set upon his lips and Charlie felt once again, stunned. He continued with his reading, as to not alert her he had noticed her entrancement. Deep inside his heart fluttered.

_“In the far tree-lines_

_the stags are groaning”_

Redaction called for a pause, and he complied, not looking at her this time.

_“And how I love O season how I love your rumbling_

_The falling fruits that no one gathers_

_The wind the forest that are tumbling_

_All their tears in autumn leaf by leaf”_

The poem was almost over, his favorite part coming up. Just as he was about to speak, she interrupted him. Charlie glanced up to her and she was in the same position as before, only now, her eyes were closed and her face was softened in content as she spoke. He realized she was picturing the scenery in her mind.

_“Les feuilles_

_Qu’on foule_

_Un train_

_Qui roule_

_La vie_

_S’écoule”_

When she opened her eyes at the end of the last words, Charlie did not even try to close his mouth that what slightly parted. Apollinaire’s poems were all written originally in French, but most of them had a solid translation which was why Charlie enjoyed them. If her words were smooth before, hearing her speak in French out of all fucking languages was like a gentle thrum in his chest.

They remained silent for a while, not an awkward one, not in the slightest. He was at a loss for words, really. What was this woman and where did she come from? Because she was sure as hell too good to be real. They had formally introduced themselves only about 10 minutes ago, but they had both fell into this comfortable spell as if they had known each other for years. Hell, he had friends for that long whose company nowhere near compared to the peace he felt right now.

“What was that?” He finally broke the silence. Something told him that there was so much more to this woman than just being a barista.

“You know how they say poetry cannot be translated?” she asked while she sat up a little bit straighter. Charlie just nodded, closing the book and slowly putting it away to listen to her attentively.

“That is the kind of poem that makes me agree.” Her lips curled in a tight smile and her gaze drifted off into nothingness, as if pondering something. “The rhythm of it in French, it’s unmatched.”

Now it was Charlie who was smiling, the need to agree out loud not present. “You have a beautiful voice Emilia.” Her name flew out of his lips smoothly. He liked it. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you worked in the radio or as a voice-over artist.”

She began to blush, and Charlie suddenly felt proud at his own wit. Was he flirting? No, he was merely complimenting her, all in good heart, clearly. “Am I that hideous?”

Charlie’s eyes widened and he realized the sub tones of his remark. “No! No, God no! I didn’t mean it like that, you are stunning! I haven’t been able to put the words to describe it…” His words were taking a whole other direction now. “Not that I’ve put so much thought into that...” Okay, making it worse. “I mean I have, but just the normal amount, not in the creepy kind of way…” Definitely coming out as creepy right now. “I just, uh…” 

His inner monologue had his mind spinning in humiliation. But then, he heard her laugh. A delicate, airy laugh with a giant smile. She was messing with him. Charlie huffed out a chuckle, partly in amusement and party in relief.

He tried to mask everything by sipping on his neglected cup. Clearing his throat and trying to redeem himself, he spoke again.

“I actually came on Saturday, but Grace told me you only worked weekdays.” In his head, the words sounded casual enough.

“So you’ve been asking around about me, huh?” he instantly regretted his forwardness. What was he thinking? He was never this bold.

Surprisingly, for a second, he regained the composure of a Director, merely shrugging and feigning confidence on his statement, there was no doubt he had done so, why deny it?

“Don’t worry, it’s actually a relief, I feel less weird now since I’ve been asking around about you too.”

“Why?” His tone was fueled with genuine curiosity and partly disbelief. Why would such a beautiful creature even give him the time of day?

“It’s very simple actually.” He was convinced then and there that he loved the sound of her voice. He secretly thanked destiny for making him meet her. Her hands moved to cup at her own mug, tentatively taking a sip of her drink. “I had a feeling.”

It was really that easy.

Those times when you meet someone and everything feels natural? This was a perfect example of that. Just two strangers meeting each other as what could only be explained as mundane circumstances. For a second he forgot all the problems with his wife, the impending responsibilities of directing a play, the pressure he had on his shoulders.

He breathed so easily, and relished it dearly until his phone vibrated and interrupted another encounter of theirs. He looked apologetically at her, and by the look in her eyes, it seemed she understood their time was over for today. His assistant was asking if he was on his way. Words went out before he could stop them.

“I have to go, but I want to see you again.”

“I would like that too.” She didn’t say anything else before slowly reaching for his hand and writing her number on his palm with her waitress pen. He grinned at the outdated practice.

As he stepped out of the café, he sighed at the relishing feeling he felt his stomach. Butterflies he recalled as he pinpointed the sensation. He was definitely going to give her a call this weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute, I'm honestly sorry, but now that my other fic is more established, I can return to this one dearly. Hope you enjoy it!


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